The Texture of Mango

Killer writing from my friend and partner in crime S Francis at SailorPoet

Stephen Fuller

I trade a piece of dark chocolate for
banana rolled in cinnamon and
slivers of mango dusted with sugar.
A fresh flavor for temptation,
ripe and in season.
This force I least expected
I do not dare acknowledge.

Love is the texture of mango
mingling in the mouth with desire.
Sugar releases a flood churning
on the other side of
an unnatural barrier erected
to protect me from my cracks.
Penetration brings Death’s
first wave of destruction.

Wretched innocence is shed
like snake skin clinging
to a rock in a desert breeze.

How did I find this death?

We sought it like
an addiction
to define us.

Each heartbeat burns our bodies
our muscles massage scars
on forgotten expanses of flesh.
The collision of sensations
fuses some new element
life needs
more than oxygen.

We learn about suffering.
We learn about sin.
We learn that we must be saved

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